


Blackout

by fizzfooz



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 15:23:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21255521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzfooz/pseuds/fizzfooz
Summary: For the prompt "hiding illness or injury."





	Blackout

The bright light of the early morning was like someone sticking pins in Ignis' eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut and fumbled for his glasses.

“Hey, hey,” Gladio said, pressing them into his hand. “Easy there. Looks like you had a rough night.”

“Nghhh?” Ignis said. He had intended for it to be something more coherent but his throat was scraped raw. His mouth tasted foul. Rough night? No. He hadn't. He'd sat in the Leville's bar downstairs for a single drink – which he'd earned, thank you very much – and then... And then? What then?

“Here.” Gladio helped him sit up. He passed him a glass of water and painkillers next. “Look,” Gladio said as Ignis desperately drained the glass. “If you wanna go on a bender, that's fine. But you've gotta give us a heads up next time. Noct and Prompto were freaking out. We thought we were gonna have to get a search party together, then you walked right in and face-planted on the bed without a word about it to anyone.”

He did not _go on a bender_. What was Gladio on about? But still, his head pounded. He was wearing last night's clothes too. All sweaty and rumpled. He hadn't even removed his jacket before he'd apparently 'face-planted into bed'. “Gladio, I-- Excuse me.” He flung himself of the bed as the water made its way back up his throat. He stumbled into the bathroom, just barely mustering enough motor control to lock the door behind him. He didn't make it to the toilet. He did manage to land over the sink.

Thank goodness for small mercies.

But the fluid that landed in the sink was not water. It was white and viscous. Had he been drinking White Russians? Surely not. He had ordered brandy. A tiny glass of it. What would have possessed him to get this drunk?

He rinsed the sink out and brushed his teeth. His movements were still sluggish, his thoughts even slower.

He needed a shower.

As he reached over to turn on the water, a sharp pain in his side made him gasp.

“You okay in there?” Gladio said, immediately.

“An upset stomach.” That was what he got for drinking so much, he supposed. His voice was hoarse. It hurt to speak. “I'm fine.”

He removed his jacket. Found his shirt saturated with sweat, stained under his armpits. He thought he'd been wearing a tie when he left but he wasn't wearing one now. For goodness' sake, he hadn't gotten blackout drunk since he was seventeen. And that was only because he didn't yet know his tolerance level (very low back then). He really shouldn't have let Noct and Gladio goad him into underage drinking with them. They'd gotten into a lot of trouble--

As he slipped off his suspenders and unbuttoned his trousers, he realised he was missing something else. Underwear. Which he had definitely been wearing when he left. Something made the fabric of his trousers stick to him, pulling at the hairs on the backs of his legs when he shoved them down. For a moment, he couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. His vision swam and he swayed. He managed to back himself into the wall and keep upright at least.

His thighs were caked in dried blood and-- and--

Impossible. That was impossible. He had only been downstairs. The Leville had been full of people. He'd only had one drink.

“You need anything?” Gladio asked. His shadow fell under the door. He must have been standing there, listening to every sound Ignis made.

“No.” He kept his voice convincingly normal. “I'll be right as rain after a shower.”

He'd known it as soon as he saw the mess in the sink but he hadn't wanted to acknowledge that... that he'd been... Another violent cramp in his gut made him double over. Gods, he was _still_ bleeding. He winced and lifted his balls, pressing the pads of his fingers to the area to assess the damage. It was sore and swollen, and his fingers came back coated in a mixture of blood and other fluids.

Someone – someones more likely – had taken-

He tried to breathe quietly. If Gladio heard, he'd have to explain. There wasn't much blood anymore. It was most likely just a tear. He took a potion. Not suspicious in itself. Gladio had been known to use them as hangover cures in his less responsible years.

Somehow, he got himself into the shower. There was no more blood but there were a lot of... of... other things that he had to expel from his body. In washing himself, he discovered bruises. All over his thighs, his hips, his knees, in rings around his wrists, slightly faded by the potion. There were bite marks too. One perfectly obvious around his left pectoral, framing his nipple. He couldn't see it but he could feel the indentations of another on one of his buttocks.

He had to cover his mouth with his forearm to stop himself from making a noise. If the others saw him like this, they would know. It was written into every part of his body.

He took another potion but the marks were still there. He noticed new ones every time he glanced down.

“You ain't passed out in there, have you Iggy? You need help?”

“No!” Ignis scrubbed himself clean as best as he could. When he'd finished, he gathered up his filthy clothes and... what? He couldn't put them in the armiger. Instead, he stuffed them into the closet under the sink. He'd extract them to wash – or to burn – later.

He dressed to cover as much skin as possible. A long-sleeved T-shirt, the most comfortable pair of pyjama bottoms he owned, underwear of course. What had happened to the pair he'd been wearing? Had they... kept them? Ripped them?

He had to crouch until the wave of nausea passed.

“Man,” Gladio said, when Ignis finally left the bathroom. “You still look like shit. Go back to bed. Princess can wait for a couple of hours.”

Ignis would normally have protested but he couldn't think of a single thing to say to Gladio at the moment. He lay down on top of the covers. Sleeping was safe. So he did.

###

_“Where'd you find this guy? He's gorgeous.”_

_“Leville. Told you all the high-class pieces of ass went there.”_

_“What's he saying? Not?”_

_“Noct, whatever that is. No, leave the glasses on. I like 'em.”_

_“Don't rip those. Gotta put them back on after.”_

###

Ignis lurched awake. Gladio wasn't there this time. He hurried into the bathroom, pleased to see no one had discovered his hiding place. He washed the filth from his clothes and hung them over the shower rail to dry. He made sure he was presentable and headed down to the Leville's bar. The same bartender who'd served him last night was on staff. What luck.

“I wonder if you can be of any assistance?” he said. “I'm afraid I was rather worse for wear yesterday evening and I seem to have misplaced my wallet. Can you help me retrace my steps?”

The bartender shrugged. Apparently Ignis had the one drink he remembered, then another man had started chatting to him. He took the man's description, heavily implying that he thought the man was a pickpocket. Sandy blond hair, average build, a little shorter than Ignis, the only distinctive feature the bartender remembered was a tattoo on the back of his right hand that was some kind of daemon. The bartender couldn't remember exactly which one but thought it was a behemoth. Shortly after that, Ignis had stumbled out of the bar. The bartender had assumed he needed the bathroom.

The bartender also said they could take a look at the CCTV if that would help. That had to go through his manager, who Ignis convinced to allow him to review the CCTV footage with him. He got a very good look at the man with the behemoth tattoo. They had a brief and unremarkable conversation at the bar. Then Ignis stood up and headed out as the bartender had said. He started to stumble in one of the hallways, then headed out into the streets. The Leville's CCTV caught a brief glimpse of him as he left through the main doors. He looked up, at something off-screen, and then he headed out of range of their cameras into wider Lestallum.

He persuaded the manager to let him record the footage on his phone to help the police with their investigation.

Back in his room, he reviewed the footage. It was difficult to make out in a second-hand recording on a small screen but he could just about catch the sleight of hand. The tattooed man reached around Ignis as they spoke. The bartender was distracted by another customer. The tattooed man must have put something in Ignis' drink. Then Ignis, feeling unwell, had headed out for some fresh air. Ignis paused the videos on the clearest shots of the tattooed man's face he could find and took screenshots.

Now he knew who he was looking for.

###

“Specs? Hey, specs?”

“Hm?”

“It's your turn.”

Ignis blinked the world back into focus. That was right. He was playing cards with the others. And winning apparently, although he hadn't been following the game at all. It had been a fruitless day roaming around Lestallum, catching neither hide nor hair of the tattooed man. He looked to have been a hunter. He'd probably moved on to the next town already. The next victim.

“You doing okay?” Gladio asked. “You still don't look great. We got enough gil for another couple of nights if you need 'em.”

“I-- It's my stomach.” That was true enough. Whether it was psychosomatic or not, he was having trouble keeping food down. He could taste bile in the back of his throat constantly. “I must have had something that didn't agree with me.”

“You need more potions?” Noct asked.

“Just rest.”

“Antacids?” Prompto suggested. “There's a pharmacy just down the street. I don't mind running--”

“There's no need. Like I said, a little rest and I'll be fine.”

###

_“He's ripped. Did I do good or what?”_

_“If you're finished congratulating yourself-- Shhh, shhh baby. Don't try to get up.”_

_“Whoa. He's flexible. Look, I can bend him in half.” _

_“Can barely get a finger in here. Who's got the lube?”_

###

“Iggy? Ignis?”

Ignis had started awake again. He was bathed in sweat. The bed was drenched. Prompto, who was sharing the bed with him, could hardly have failed to notice.

“Hey,” Prompto said. “You sure you're okay?”

“I've survived far worse than an upset stomach.”

“Yeah but...” 

“But nothing. Go back to sleep, Prompto.”

Ignis could just about make out Prompto's features in the dark. He was frowning, in that particularly devastating way he had that made him look on the verge of tears. “You didn't used to have nightmares,” he said. “It's okay, you know. If you're not okay, I mean. Even Gladio said we can take a few days out--”

“The only thing that's bothering me is that you're preventing me from getting a decent night's sleep.”

Ignis rolled onto his side so he didn't have to see Prompto's reaction to that. After a few moments, Prompto settled back down.

###

_“Hey! No photos!”_

_“It's a video.”_

_“You think that's better, you fucking moron?”_

_“Why's it matter? He's not gonna remember.”_

###

It wasn't the man from the CCTV footage but it was one with the same tattoo. It was pure luck – or the lack of it – that allowed Ignis to spot him. He was wandering around the market in Lestallum. Ostensibly for ingredients. Although his cooking had been dubious the past couple of days. Overly salted, although the others had all pretended it was fine while choking it down. Burnt to the bottom of the pan. He'd found fast food wrappers in the bin. He reached for some cloves of garlic as another man was reaching for them, and spied the behemoth on the back of his hand. Ignis grabbed his wrist.

“What the hell?” the man said, then grinned as he looked into Ignis' face. “Hey. If you want them that badly, they're yours.”

He didn't recognise him but the man at the bar's face hadn't been familiar either. Whatever they'd given him had seared a hole in his memory. “Would you like to go for a drink with me?”

“Right now?”

“If you aren't interested--”

“No! Now's good. Great, even.”

The Leville would have been a mistake but Lestallum had plenty of smaller bars. The one Ignis selected was a dive, all the better for avoiding the others. He ordered a brandy which he didn't drink.

“That's an interesting tattoo,” he said, as the man lifted his pint glass to his own lips.

“Yeah.” The man showed the back of his hand. “Me and some buddies got 'em a few years ago after we took one of these guys down. Not the best likeness but we were kinda high on adrenaline at the time. You ever seen a behemoth?”

“A couple.”

“Really? You don't look like a hunter.”

What did he look like? A civilian? An easy target? “Are you still in touch with those friends of yours?”

“Course. Surviving something like that, it bonds you, you know. We're like a wolf pack.”

“What else do you like to do together?”

“Huh? We still hunt together. Drink. Party. You know. Normal stuff.”

“Normal stuff,” Ignis repeated. He took out his phone and showed him the picture of the man caught on CCTV. “Do you know this man? A member of your wolf pack perhaps?”

The man laughed. “Ah. Shit. I thought this was too good to be true.” He put his pint down. “You wanna rough me up? Come on, then.” He jerked his thumb and led Ignis down one of the side streets. What seemed like an eternity ago, they'd wandered up and down these looking for steam valves. “Well? What's your beef with Lewis then? He owe you money or sleep with your boyfriend or what?”

“Show me your phone.”

“What? Astrals, you're so weird. If he owes you money, just tell me how much. I got plenty gil. So's he since he never spends any of it--”

Ignis struck him in the solar plexus, then swiped his legs out from under him as he was gasping for breath. He bashed the back of his head into the wall. Too hard. He'd meant to restrain himself but there was a bloody streak when he collapsed into his own chest. No matter. He was still breathing and he could fix it with a potion if he had to. He dug into the man's jacket until he finally retrieved the phone.

The contents of it were... enlightening. Ignis swallowed, trying not to retch at the images of himself. There was precious little that could identify the other men. Hands and... other parts. Only a couple of faces. The videos were worse with their sounds and their close-ups of his own blank-eyed face. Ignis sent the pertinent ones to his own phone. Distantly, he used an app to cut them up. To save screenshots of the other culprits' faces. After a moment's hesitation, he saved a full version of the video too. It would help him to identify how many he had left to find.

He installed a tracker on the man's phone and left it where he'd found it, unharmed. The matching app on his own phone would show him the man's whereabouts. He healed him with a potion, despite the urge to smash his head against the wall again and again until there was nothing left. He had to leave something behind he could follow.

###

“You waiting on a call or something?” Gladio asked.

Ignis had been checking his phone too much. Too obviously. The tracker hadn't shown him what he needed to know. The red dot that represented his target only moved around public places. Bars and the market and places that revealed nothing of the rest of their 'wolf pack'. “I'm simply conscious of how much time we're wasting in Lestallum.”

“About that...”

“Hm?” Ignis was watching the red dot linger in front of the street food vendors.

“There's a free hospital here. It's probably busy but if we're gonna be here till you're better anyway--”

“I don't need a hospital.”

“Iggy...”

“What is it, Gladiolus?”

“You think I'm fucking blind? You think we're stupid? Cause we ain't. We know something's up. If you don't wanna talk about it, that's– I understand. But we've gotta deal with it. You're going to that hospital if I have to carry you over my shoulder.”

###

There was nothing wrong with him. He'd taken potions. He was fine. The hospital disagreed. He was a little anaemic. He was dehydrated. He was showing signs of an infection. The doctor insisted on examining him and he would have fled if that wouldn't have taken him straight into the path of Gladio, standing sentry in the waiting room. She was diplomatically silent about the location of his bruises. She danced around the topic of the infection. That it was from one of the tears inside of him. She gave him laxatives to make trips to the bathroom less painful, antibiotics for the infection, STD tests just in case. She told him that there were services available if he needed to talk about it.

He told her he was fine, again. There was nothing wrong with him.

Gladio didn't ask just left a silence between them that it was desperately obvious that he wanted Ignis to fill. 

Ignis didn't.

###

The tracker took him to the arcade. To where Noctis and Prompto were hanging out. Prompto was laughing, mocking Noctis for his 'epic loss' on some shooting game. Ignis couldn't remember the last time any of them had laughed around him. He lingered to the side of one of the taller machines, feeling like a stalker. An intruder in his own life. He watched the man he was tracking approach Prompto and Noctis. Challenge them to a match. Noctis shook his head and refused but he persuaded Prompto into a single game by betting gil on it. They always needed gil and Prompto always won the shooting games. The man touched Prompto's hip as they played. Prompto swung away from it, face reddening. Noctis scowled at the interaction. 

The man paid up the gil and invited them to a party. Ignis almost gave himself away, almost jumped out of his hiding place. But they were more sensible than that. They both made excuses. Noct had his phone in one hand. Ready to speed dial Gladio, the way he'd been taught to in these situations.

The man gave up on them. Ignis watched the man leave and then followed him with the tracker, always staying out of sight.

This time, he was led to the stairwell of a block of flats. Not his home. The man had been staying in a camper van in one of the parking lots. The flat he stopped at was on the fifth floor. They answered when he knocked. Greeted him warmly, even. As if he was a rarely-seen friend. He recognised too many of the men inside. Faces and voices from the video. The sandy-haired man who'd spiked his drink. But it was the bottle of lube that drew his eye, sitting so casually on a table that was otherwise full of cheap beer.

“Hey, gorgeous,” one of the men said. He cracked one of the beer bottles open by bashing it on the corner of the table. Held it out to Ignis. Who took it mechanically, his brain shutting off. 

They were not sorry, or scared of him. Even the one he could have killed in that alleyway only grinned and waved. One of them offered to take his jacket. Ignis shrugged him off and stepped further into the room. He placed the open beer down on the table with the rest. He caught the edge of the table, suddenly unsteady. The plastic cover squeaked under his fingers. He tried to gather his thoughts as the men chattered and laughed around him.

What had he thought was going to happen? That they'd prostrate themselves before him? Beg his forgiveness? Why? Men who were capable of what they'd done were deeply detached from any normal sense of reality to begin with.

One of them snaked an arm around his waist. “Couldn't stay away, huh?” he said.

The possessiveness of the touch, hand stroking his waist, should have made Ignis feel something but his perception was too fragmented. “You drugged me,” he said. The reality of the situation was still slipping away from him. He had to stick to the facts.

The man actually laughed. He produced a pill from somewhere inside his clothing and held it out in his palm. “Bet you've been feeling pretty sick. Hair of the dog?”

Ignis smacked it out of his hand. More laughter. There were more of them now. Surrounding him. One of them slid his jacket from his shoulders and he was too baffled to resist. One of them grabbed his jaw and tried to yank him into a kiss.

That was what it took to finally snap him out of it. He pulled his daggers from the armiger.

###

Ignis crouched outside of the flat with his hands on his knees like he was recovering from a stitch. They had laughed and laughed, evading his daggers, until he'd finally gutted one of them and the laughter had abruptly stopped. Now he was bloody and shaking. He needed to clean himself up before he could return to Noct and the others. There was a shower inside but he couldn't face the flat again. The stairs creaking made him look up sharply. If it was one of them, one he'd missed–

It was Gladio, followed by Noct and Prompto.

“Shit,” he said, hurrying to Ignis' side. “Shit. What happened?”

Noct reached for the door behind him and Ignis slammed his hand against it. “Don't.”

The three of them had some sort of silent exchange that he couldn't decipher. Then Gladio reached for the door and there was little Ignis could do to prevent him opening it. Gladio slipped inside. Noct cracked a potion over Ignis, though he was sure he wasn't injured.

“It's okay, Iggy,” Prompto said, reaching but not touching him. “What do I do? A blanket maybe?”

Ignis was still shaking. Reality was slipping away from him again. A blanket was draped over his shoulders but he couldn't tell whether Noct or Prompto had done that. Their faces floated in his vision like the reflections in a stream. They were talking to him, to each other, but he couldn't parse any if it. He felt Gladio access the armiger. One of them – Noct, he thought – persuaded him to sit down and lean his back against the corridor wall.

“Prompto,” Gladio said, peering out through a crack in the door. “Need some help in here.”

The high trill of Prompto's reaction to the scene inside made Ignis cringe into himself, drawing the blanket tighter. Noct remained at his side. Ignis stared at the back of his hands and the streaks of dried blood clinging to them.

“They deserve it?” Noct asked.

Ignis unlocked his phone, opened one of the videos, and handed it to Noct. He deserved an explanation for why Ignis had not been performing his duties lately. This was easier than actually having to tell him. Noct watched less than a second. He leapt up, throwing the phone down onto the corridor. He warped – accidentally – leaving a blue impression of himself. “Ignis...”

“It's over and done with, Noct. Please. I can't... I can't give it any more of myself.”

Noct returned to his side. Ignis didn't dare look at him. When Prompto and Gladio returned, he couldn't see their faces either. Gladio must've understood something, though, because he briefly squeezed Ignis' shoulder.

“Took care of 'em for you,” he said.

And that was that. Ignis stood up and vanished the blanket into the armiger. “Let's move on, shall we?”


End file.
